


The Torch, The Bug, the Forge, and the Undecided

by TheArcReactor



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game), Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Azorius Senate, Boros Legion (Magic: The Gathering), Cult of Rakdos, Daydreaming, Gen, Golgari Swarm, Gruul Clans, House Dimir, Izzet League, Orzhov Syndicate (Magic: The Gathering), Planeswalkers (Magic: The Gathering), Platonic Relationships, Post-War of the Spark, Ravnica (Magic: The Gathering), Selesnya Conclave, Simic Combine, Theros (Magic: The Gathering)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArcReactor/pseuds/TheArcReactor
Summary: George is a rather ordinary gateless Ravnican, except for the fact that he works for the Living Guildpact and his two best friends are planeswalkers. One of whom is one of the best assassins in the entirety of House Dimir. And his other friend is from another plane entirely. Maybe he’s not so ordinary after all. When the three of them go investigate rumors of an upcoming attack on the Victory Day Festival, George’s world expands. Literally.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. The Daydream

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m TheArcReactor, though most call me Arc.
> 
> I’ve had this idea for a while now, and I’ve had many more ideas, though I don’t consider myself a good writer.
> 
> Enough about me, let’s talk about the story :D
> 
> There’s an explanation of the guilds near the end of chapter one.
> 
> The story takes place a couple hundred years after the War of the Spark. Most of the characters are no longer alive, though some, such as Niv-Mizzet are still alive and well.
> 
> Victory Day is a celebration of the defeat of Nicol Bolas, complete with a parade and re-enactments. 
> 
> Clay/Dream was George’s childhood friend and is an assassin for House Dimir. He goes by Dream when on the job. He’s a planeswalker, and uses shadow magic.
> 
> Nick/Sapnap is a planeswalker but from Theros (I love that plane, it’s my favorite and I’m a mythology nerd). Dream met him while planeswalking and introduced him to George. He has Fire magic, what else would he have?
> 
> George isn’t part of a guild, but works for the Living Guildpact. He isn’t a planeswalker.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story :)
> 
> Credit to Wizards of the Coast for almost all of the background lore of this fic. If you’re interested, I’d recommend reading deeper into it.

“Uggggh,” George groaned as he woke up, covering his eyes from the intense light. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking quickly as he got used to it. George reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his glasses. Putting them on, he could finally see without having to shield his eyes. _That’s what you get for living in Whitestone_ , he thought. The neighborhood's alabaster walls reflected light oh-so-well, to the point where George considered it a miracle that there were so few cases of blindness.

Looking around, George saw no sign of his best friend and roommate, Clay. He supposed he was either off plane or doing something of dubious legality if not criminal. He was one the top assassins in House Dimir, known by the nickname “Dream.” He was also a planeswalker, specializing in shadow magic. _Umbrakinesis_ , George recalled, the term used by the scientists at Prism University on the other side of the Tenth.

After eating a quick breakfast, George got into more proper clothes and started walking toward the building where he worked. He followed the familiar path he took every weekday, crossing the bridge to Augustin Station and descending a flight of stairs to the Transguild Promenade. He passed by the Chamber housing his boss, the Living Guildpact, and Parun of the Izzet League, Niv-Mizzet.

George sat down at his desk and looked at the stack of papers and sighed. Sorting through appeals from the Azorius Courts and deciding which ones were worth the Living Guildpact’s attention was dreadfully boring work. Most of it was the usual stuff. Not wanting to pay your taxes to the Syndicate, a family member got murdered at a Rakdos show, a Weird burned your carpet, the normal. Nothing particularly worthy of the Firemind’s attention, but there was a slew of cases against the new leader of the Gruul for a recent raid on the Vizkopa Bank.

Filling out paperwork… after paperwork… after paperwork… after paperwork… was extremely boring, and George’s mind began to wander. His brain brought him back to a random history test from he didn’t even know what year of school.

 _List the Ten Paruns_.

Ten blank lines stared back at him.

 _Azorius Senate_. That was easy. Azor.

 _Boros League_ . George knew they were some sort of angel. _Razia_ , he remembered, quickly scribbling that down.

 _House Dimir_ . It was some guy named Dimir probably. It could have been Szadek, but he didn’t have the last name Dimir. He put them both down. _Szadek Dimir_. Definitely wrong, but if one of those were correct, maybe he’d get half credit.

“Who was the Dimir Parun?” George asked Clay after the test. 

“Szadek.” Clay replied.

“So I was half right. What about the Simic Parun.”

“I don’t know either. I just put down ‘Simic’ since half of the guilds are named after the Paruns.”

“Me too, that was what I thought also.”

“See you later, George!” Clay said with a wave and a smile as they parted ways and headed off to their next class.

The memory changed to one of fear. It was from a couple of weeks or a month (he couldn’t remember exactly how long it was) when his best friend just disappeared. That time period was one of George’s worst memories; he spent so much time trying to figure out the events of the day he disappeared. He didn’t have much luck, as the Dimir Records were stored at a legendary place called Duskmantle, and few knew where that was. Most Dimir didn’t even know. And those that did weren’t likely to give it up.

George remembered his elation when he came home to his house in Whitestone to find Clay there. 

“YOU’RE BACK!” George yelled, running toward Clay and hugging him, thankful to have him back.

“It’s nice to be back,” Clay said as he took off his mask. The white mask emblazoned with a smiley face was one of the signature features of his assassin costume. Being one of the top assassins for House Dimir was extraordinarily dangerous work, so he used the code name “Dream” while on the job.

“Where have you been? And who’s that?” George asked, pointing to a boy slightly younger than them with raven hair. He was wearing armor etched with a hammer and fire symbol and holding a helmet in his hand. It looked like something the Boros would wear, but there was definitely something un-Ravnican about it.

Clay was wearing similar armor underneath his cloak, except with a golden mask on the breastplate instead.

“It’s a long story.”

“You’ve had me worried sick about you!” “Tell me everything.”

“Well, to start off, I’m now a planeswalker, and Nick here is one too.”

Knowledge of the multiverse and the existence of planeswalkers was common knowledge here on Ravnica. A battle with blue zombies and weird-looking people with magic spells and chains and swords fighting in the tenth district plaza isn’t something you can exactly keep secret. Oh yeah, and a giant dragon. Speaking of which, the anniversary of that battle, called Victory Day, was coming up in a week or so.

“So that’s why I couldn’t find you.”

“Yeah, that’s why. When your spark ignites, you get sent off to a random plane.”

“Don’t those ignite under trauma? What did you go through?” George asked, his face full of worry.

“I got caught stealing from a wealthy Orzhov banker and almost died.” Clay laughed.

“I then found myself at the feet of this giant statue in a fortress city. I was very confused until Nick here took notice of me, and I told him what happened.”

“You were scared,” Nick said.

“No I wasn’t.” Clay retorted defensively.

“Continuing, Nick told me that I was a planeswalker like him. He told me the plane was called Theros and that I was in the city of Akros. He taught me how to planeswalk and gave me a quick tour of some of the multiverse's major planes. Dominaria with its… everything, the landscapes of Zendikar, the dinosaurs of Ixalan,... then he brought me back here, to Ravnica. I thought you might enjoy helping me show him around.”

“Sure.”

George’s first job was as a Tenth District tour guide, giving tours to visitors from other Districts. He knew what he was doing.

George led Nick outside, out to one of the open areas in Whitestone.

“District Ten is divided into Ten Precincts. We’re currently in Precinto Two, the business precinct. This is Whitestone, where Clay and I live. Over there is a statue of Argus Kos. He saved Ravnica during the decamillennial. It’s a meeting place for veterans and Dimir spies.”

“What’s a Dimir?”

“Did Clay not tell you about the guilds?”

“He did, but didn’t go into much detail.”

“Alright, I’ll go a bit in-depth about the guilds. You are aware of the five colors of mana, yes?” 

Nick nodded. “Yep, I’m a pyromancer, so I use red mana,” he said with an orange glow in his eyes and a smile.

George took out a piece of parchment and a quill and some ink out of his bag and drew a tree, sun, droplet, skull, and tree in a pentagonal shape.

“There are ten guilds and each guild is a combination of two colors.”

“Like the Minor Gods.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but sure.”

“Each of the ten guilds has certain functions. I’m gateless, meaning I’m not in a guild. Each guild has a guildhall, their official or major base of operations. Most of them are in the Tenth District. Everything important is in the Tenth. Each guild also has a guildmaster, who leads the guild. There’s also the Living Guildpact, whose job is to rule on important matters and laws, especially inter guild matters. He’s a dragon named Niv-Mizzet. I work for him,” pointing to the Chamber of the Living Guildpact.

“Let’s start with is the Azorius Senate. They serve as Ravnica’s government and legal system. They’re white and blue and are based in New Prahv over there.” He drew a line connecting the sun and the droplet and three triangles in the middle. It was a terrible rendition, but George wasn’t aiming for perfection. “The second guild is House Dimir. They’re supposed to couriers and librarians, but everyone knows that they don’t do much of that. They deal in secrets and theft and assassination contracts. They’re very secretive. Clay here is a member of House Dimir, one of their best assassins.” He drew a line connecting the droplet and the skull and drew a bug with an eye in its back.

“The third guild is the Cult of Rakdos. They provide entertainment, food and manual labor. Their shows, however, tend to involve a lot of pain and occasionally murder of an audience member. They’re lead by a giant demon named Rakdos, but he’s usually sleeping in Rix Maaldi.” He drew a line connecting the skull and the fireball and drew the mask resembling Rakdos’ head that served as the symbol of the guild. “The fourth guild is the Gruul Clans. They’re supposed to guard Ravnica’s nature, but they’re basically a bunch of rioting barbarian anarchists.” He drew a line connecting the fireball and the tree and drew the torch and sticks symbol of the Gruul.

“The fifth guild is the Selesnya Conclave. Conservationists and charities, and a nature cult that competes with the Orzhova faith as Ravnica’s biggest religion. They’re technically lead by the world-soul of Ravnica, an elemental named Mat’Selesnya.” He drew a line connecting the tree and the sun and drew the tree that represented the Conclave. The outer pentagon was completed. “The sixth guild is the Orzhov Syndicate. They’re dominant religious order and the largest bank. Bunch of greedy bastards. If you die while in debt to them, they enslave your ghost. They’re.” He drew a line connecting the sun and the skull and the eight-pointed star in the middle.

“The seventh Guild is the Izzet League. They’re named after Niv-Mizzet who founded the guild but is now the Living Guildpact. They’re based in Nivix, over there. They’re engineers and mad scientists.” He drew a line connecting the droplet and the fireball and drew the circular profile of Niv-Mizzet that represented the Izzet League. “The eighth guild is the Golgari Swarm. They manage Ravnica’s agricultural and waste system, but they’re also necromancers and generally live in the sewers.” He drew a line connecting the skull and tree and drew a quick and terrible recreation of the insectoid face.

“The ninth guild is the Boros Legion. They serve as the military and security force, dedicated to righteousness and justice, according to themselves. They’re lead by angels and have a flying fortress.” He drew a line connecting the fireball and the sun, and in the middle drew a fist surrounded by an aura. “The tenth and final guild is the Simic Combine. They’re currently overtaken by merfolk and do weird experiments giving people aspects of other animals. They’re supposed to be life scientists and conservationists.” He drew a line connecting the tree and the droplet and a curved tree in the center, completing the inner star.

“Those are the guilds, that wasn’t really short, was it?” George said, laughing at his own joke. “We’ll continue the tour tomorrow, ok?”

“Sure,” Nick replied.


	2. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George receives a letter with a quest from the Living Guildpact.

George roused from his daydream and looked up. There was a new letter on his desk from the Firemind himself.

_What could it be? What did the Firemind want him to do? It must be important._

He opened the letter and read it. The handwriting was sort of neat, probably a transcript by one of the various people who worked for the Living Guildpact.

“ _Mr. Burian, I have heard rumors that the Gruul are planning an attack during Victory Day. Confirm if these are just rumors or not within a week._ ”

George hoped Clay was back by now. His listening devices and stealth abilities would be useful for this. He grabbed one of the badges bearing the sigil of the Living Guildpact, and with that, George headed home.

George arrived home to find both Clay and Nick there. Wisps of shadow still floated around, and a small scorch mark was on the floor, so he could tell that the two had arrived recently.

“Hey, George!” Nick called as Clay waved to George.

“Where have you two been?” George asked.

“Dus-“ Clay stopped himself, remembering the confidentiality of his mission.

“I brought you this stone fragment I found; the natives called it a ‘Hedron Fragment.’” Nick interrupted, unable to wait any longer. He handed George a piece of carved rock, etched with strange, unreadable rune-like lines.

George had a collection of extraplanar souvenirs that Clay and Nick brought him, probably out of pity because he couldn’t planeswalk with them. Well, they could bring him along, but it really wasn’t easy and was rather risky.

“D-Dominaria.” 

George raised an eyebrow at Clay, as he was clearly lying.

“Niv-Mizzet gave me a mission to investigate rumors that the Gruul Clans are planning an attack during Victory Day, and I was wondering if you could give me some of those recording bugs of yours.”

“Sure.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

“Yes.” “Sure.” Nick and Clay responded simultaneously.

“Let’s do it tomorrow.”

George rummaged through his drawers, trying to find an old map of District Ten he knew he had somewhere. After digging out old books he’d forgotten about and grocery lists and work he took home, he still couldn’t find it. Regrettably. Whatever. He knew his way around well enough.

The next morning, George was up at first light and yawned. He really disliked his tendency to wake up at first light. Oh well. After quietly getting dressed and making himself breakfast, George left a note explaining where he was. George then tried to sneak out of their Whitestone home, making sure not to wake Clay and Nick. That plan came crashing down when he tripped on a book he had left lying around, landing with a loud thud, though George was not injured.

“George?” The groggy voice of Clay called.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” George replied, getting up and dusting himself off.

Nick and Clay both hurried down the stairs, yawning and stretching.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked.

“Yes,” George said.

“Well, we’re coming with you now,” Clay said, reading the note George had left on the kitchen table.

George made Nick and Clay breakfast as the two of them went to change into their street clothes. A mask and a black cloak and bronze armor and a shield don’t exactly help you blend in with a crowd.

“Let’s go,” George exclaimed annoyedly.

Following the path he usually took to work, past the tall and gleaming Augustin Station, he then took a right instead of going straight when he passed the round orb-like structure that was the Chamber of the Guildpact. They were now at the Tenth District Plaza. 

The large open area was the best place to find information for stuff like this. The three of them looked around for anyone, obviously a member of Gruul among the being traversing the plaza. The trio saw elves, devils, spirits, Simic hybrid creatures, even a weird or two. And interestingly, the Azorius guildmaster, identifiable via his black clothes and the purple jewel on his gold necklace. Suddenly, George turned to Nick and Clay and said, “Hey, Look!”

George had spotted two people he recognized in the crowd, and George ran over to say hi, pushing past a weird human-fish hybrid that was clearly the work of Simic biomancers and someone in a white robe with a pendant of the Orzhov Star. One of the priests, probably.

“Hey, Darryl! Hey, Zak!” George called, excited to see two of his friends.

Dragging them over to where Clay and Nick were, George asked them, “How have you been?”

“We’ve been good, I’m still a medic for the League, and Skeppy here has a show later this week!” Darryl said as he bounced a little in excitement. 

Zak, or Skeppy as Darryl affectionately called him, was a Rakdos performer who was also a notorious prankster. Zak and Darryl had known each other ever since they were kids and often helped each other. Zak provided entertainment for Darryl’s patients, and Darryl helped take care of the audience casualties that usually happened during Rakdos performances.

“I got an assignment from the Firemind to investigate rumors of a potential attack on the Victory Day Festival by the Gruul,” George explained. “Clay and Nick are helping me.”

“The rumors are true; I can tell you that,” Zak said with a laugh. “The Cult is going to attack the festival along with the Clans. I’m not going to join the attack—that’s not my type of violence—and There’s a rally by the Gruul guildmaster later today at Skaarg.”

“Thank you, Zak.” George and Nick replied at the same time.

Zak and Darryl walked off toward a great building with brown-red roofs, tall spires, gleaming walls, and silver chandeliers visible through the windows. Tall spires jutted out of the middle, adorned with golden statues of angels. It was Orzhova, the Cathedral Opulent, the Orzhov guildhall, and the site of the Vizkopa Bank. 

“I wonder why they’re visiting Orzhova,” Clay wondered aloud.

“Probably to take out a loan or pay off a debt.”

“I hope it’s the latter because the Orzhov always collect their debts…” Nick trailed off as they walked into the Transguild Promenade.

It was common knowledge that nothing would stop the Orzhov from collecting debt and interest. Many of the slums were filled with those whose families had been in poverty for generations because of an ancestor’s inability to pay off a loan. Or if you didn’t pay your debts, you’d be turned into a ghost slave for eternity. No one wanted that.

Soon, the trio was in front of a gate, stone gray walls extending on both sides. Two soldiers standing in full shining white armor stood guard on each side of the gate, the red accents and the red-and-white fist clearly marking them as members of the Boros League.

“Stop! What is your business entering Sunhome?”

“Traveling to Skaarg under the order of the Living Guildpact.” George stated, doing his best “official” voice. He fished the letter from the Firemind out from his pocket and pointed to the badge on his chest. “These Two,” he said, gesturing to George and Nick, “are with me.”

One of the guards took the letter and walked over to the other one, and they began to whisper. George heard several snippets of conversation:

“It looks official.”

“The black-haired one looks strange.”

“We don’t really have the authority to deny them entry based on that alone.”

Both of them looked up and began walking toward George, Nick, and Clay. One of them let out an annoyed sigh.

“You may pass.”

“Thank you,” Nick said.

Soon, the Promenade began to angle upward, and the three of them passed above Sunhome, the fortress that the Boros League used as their guildhall. Before them, below the elevated road, lay a great, flat expanse of rubble and destroyed buildings. It was easy to spot the widely scattered red brick and the occasional abandoned sword lying in the ground. The area was called the Red Wastes, and in George’s opinion, it was quite ugly.

Soon, an irregularly shaped building came into view. Gray walls cobbled together from nearby buildings, an uneven roof, it was the building called Skaarg, the Gruul “guildhall.” Or the closest thing to one, anyway. A disunited group of tribes and anarchists and rioters can’t really form an overarching hierarchy. It was mostly used as an auditorium, a place for speeches and rallies, like today.

A steady stream flowed in from the other way, forming Two lines along the Transguild Promenade. The three of them spotted huge hulking one-eyes cyclopes, tentacle-haired gorgons, an occasional demon or two, giants, feisty goblins, and even a couple of insect-people.

 _Those weird insect-people are called kraul_ , George remembered. _Wait. Gorgons? Kraul? That means that the Golgari Swarm are also attacking the festival with the Gruul Clans and Cult of Rakdos_ , he realized with a shock.

“The Golgari are in on this too…” George whispered.

“That’s three guilds involved in the attack,” Nick whispered back.

“This is getting worrisome.”

Skaarg was packed to the brim with attendees, and George felt he might suffocate at any moment. He readjusted his glasses and led Nick and Clay to an area off to the side of the stage. Clay stealthily snuck over to the stage and lightly placed the bug-shaped listening device near where he thought the guildmaster would probably be standing.

George looked around, taking everything in. Tattered banners of the torch and flame hung from the walls, burnt and frayed at the edges. Clubs, swords, pebbles, a variety of weaponry, both man-made and natural, lay around on the floor.

George turned back to the entrance and noticed some goblins entering, carrying sticks and burning torches. George took a step back, right up against the wall, moving closer to the nearest exit. He knew how Gruul rallies tended to go. It starts calm, gets riled up, and then the smashing begins. Suddenly George didn’t feel safe anymore, taking a bit of comfort in the fact that Nick and Clay were with him, and they were good fighters, especially Clay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a hint of an mcyter (not technoblade) that’ll be appearing soon :)
> 
> Please give feedback! Love y’all!


	3. The Rally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George, Nick, and Clay go to the Gruul Rally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for 50 hits!

“And I present to you… the Gruul guildmaster, the undefeated, the chosen of Ilharg, THE BLADE!” A screechy goblin introduced, the crowd erupting into cheers and screams. Banners waved, pebbles were thrown, George had a feeling that there were a few unconscious and/or dead people in the crowd now.

Out walked someone who could have passed for human if not for the pig head he possessed. Clad in a darkish gray set of armor, a crown adorning his helmet. A red and black cape flew behind him, with a few darker spots George could guess was blood. A sword and crossbow hung by his sides. Interestingly, the tip of a green jewel stuck out of his pocket slightly.

Who hadn’t heard of The Blade, and frankly, who wasn’t afraid of him? Appearing suddenly out of nowhere, the Blade climbed the “ranks” of Gruul Clans and got into many, many fights. Undefeated, he soon earned a reputation of being the best fighter in the entire plane—guildmaster in near-record time. No one knew his origins, however. Many of the Gruul believed him to be an avatar of the Ilharg the Raze-Boar, who would come down to Ravnica and trample the buildings into dust during the End-Raze. He had a special hatred of governments, an “anarchist” according to the Prism University people who category absolutely everything.

“My fellow Ravnicans,” his monotone voice boomed. “In exactly a week’s time, we shall attack the Victory Day Festival and turn it into a celebration of the victory of the wild over civilization! You have been forced into the sewers with claims that you’re ugly, you’re disgusting,” The Blade gestured to the Golgari present. A disgusted hiss emanated from the gorgons. “You have been banished to the wilds and outskirts of the city because you’re ‘primitive’ or ‘barbaric.’” A loud, angry roar came from the Gruul, hurting George’s ears. “The laws of the Azorius have prevented you from enjoying your life to the fullest,” he said, facing the Cult members in the crowd.

“That is why we will march on New Prahv and Vitu-Ghazi while they are distracted by the festival! The fact that we offend the Selesnyans’ sense of ‘harmony’ and ‘natural beauty’ means absolutely nothing! Burn that tree that’s so _special_ to a senile elemental,” The Blade added. “Topple the towers of New Prahv! Their tyrannical laws and government will rule us no longer! Destroy and burn the Guildpact; Niv-Mizzet can’t take on all of us! Break the machines of the Izzet scientists! Rob the hoards of the Orzhov nobles! Survival of the strongest, every man for himself! Anarchy shall reign supreme, and we shall be free to live how we want! No longer will you be forced to toil away getting rid of the garbage or go to jail for interacting with the audience, or imprisoned for ‘destruction of property’! Gather your slings and bows to shoot down the Boros angels. Razia was ugly anyway,” he added offhandedly. “So gather your clubs and sticks and stones and razors and daggers and knives! Because in a week, the End-Raze will begin!” Loud cheers erupted from all across Skaarg.

“That was certainly something,” a small blonde boy next to George said to someone who George assumed was his friend.

“Definitely was,” the brunette in the green shirt replied, sounding scared.

“That guy over there is eavesdropping on us,” George heard the blonde one say.

“Yeah, let’s go. This place seems to be getting dangerous anyway.”

George honestly agreed. He turned around to see Nick standing defensively, his warhammer out. 

“We should probably leave,” George told Nick.

“Yeah, except Clay’s gone. He got into his assassin costume and disappeared.”

“I wonder why…” George mused as he saw a flicker of white through one of the cracks in the ceiling. He tracked its movements, swerving and hiding and moving closer to the area where the Blade was. The figure, he assumed (George didn’t know what else it could be), moved something that could be a hand in a circle and the white became obscured. _That’s Clay_ , George realized. Why was he going after The Blade? Why did the Dimir guildmaster want the Gruul guildmaster dead?

“Why is Clay going after The Blade?” George asked Nick.

“What?”

“I saw Clay sneaking around on the roof heading toward the area where I think The Blade is. Why?”

“I don’t know. Should we check it out?”

“I guess. I don’t want to leave without Clay…”

“So let’s do that.”

George snuck over to the stage and picked up the recording device. He and Nick moved around to the outside of Skaarg, looking for cracks in the walls or windows. Soon, they found a roughly square hole in the wall that George guessed once held a window. He could see The Blade talking to two Brutish creatures or beings; he couldn’t tell. _Probably personal guards_ , George thought.

George turned his head to look away for just a second when he heard a cry of pain coming from inside, followed by a rather loud _THUD_. George turned to watch the action so fast he cricked his neck. He saw a flash of reflective metal fly through the air like a dagger from the roof, straight into the head of the other guard—another cry of pain, another _THUD_.

With a wave of his hand, the cloud of shadow around Clay dissipated, revealing himself in full Dream gear. A gray breastplate on top of a dark green shirt, black pants, and boots with the handles of daggers sticking out. All covered by a cloak black as night and a bone-white mask, inscribed with a smiley face. Dream was the name Clay went by during his job as an assassin for House Dimir. One of the best assassins in the guild, in fact, and likely the most feared.

“Dream,” The Blade said, not hiding the contempt in his voice.

“The Blade.” Dream replied in earnest.

“Come down to the ground and fight me like a man with honor.”

“Nah. Having the high ground is more advantageous.” Dream pulled a dagger out of his pocket and launched it at The Blade’s bovine head. The Blade ducked and snorted in anger.

In response, the Blade took out his crossbow and loaded a bolt. Dream, having spotted Nick and George, made a shape with his hands which resembled the outline of a house—and just as the crossbow bolt was about to hit him, Dream planeswalked away, disappearing in a puff of shadowy smoke.

George and Nick ran away from Skaarg as fast as they could. Nick held out his hand and lit a small flame in his palm.

“Whitestone is too far in the dark,” George mentioned.

“Darryl and Zak’s is closer, in Plaza East.”

“Let’s go there. It’s not too far, and we’re already in Sunhome.”

“Yeah.”

Exiting Sunhome Fortress, they took a left on Tenth District Plaza and entered into a smaller neighborhood—around half the size of Whitestone. _A right turn here, go straight for two blocks, make a left_ … Finally, George and Nick came to a house both of them recognized. George hoped it wasn’t too late in the evening. He walked up to the door and knocked.

“Who’s there?” A sleepy voice asked.

“George–”

“and Nick.”

Darryl opened the door, a look of confusion on his face.

“George! Nick! What are you doing here at this hour?”

George stood there in slight shock, for he had somehow forgotten that Darryl was half-demon. He had a short tail and horns sticking out of the top of his head. He didn’t have wings, though. The result of an unholy union between a human member of the Cult of Rakdos and a demon, Darryl was unlike all the other demons George had met. In fact, ironically, the half-demon was one of the kindest beings he knew. 

“We’ll explain once we’re inside,” Nick said.

“We went to Skaarg to listen to The Blade’s speech, and we learned that he plans to attack New Prahv and Vitu-Ghazi,” George said. “After the speech, Clay tried to assassin The Blade but planeswalked away, making a gesture like this,” George added, doing his best to recreate it.

“That’s the sign for ‘house,’ I think,” Darryl mused. “Clay must have gone back to your Whitestone home.”

“Nick, do you want to go visit Clay in the morning? I’m

Probably going to go straight to work.” George asked.

“Sure,” Nick said as he laid down on the couch.

After requesting a blanket and pillow from Darryl, George wrapped himself in the blanket and laid down on the floor in his makeshift sleeping bag.

“Goodnight George, Goodnight Nick,” Darryl called from his room.

“Goodnight,” George replied

“G’night,” Nick said in return.

And with that, George somewhat uncomfortably drifted off to sleep and began to dream.

George had always had these odd dreams of places that looked nothing like Ravnica. He didn’t think he was particularly creative, and these seemed so real.

The first dream he had was of a city made of various shades of orange, with red, yellow, green, and blue highlights. Several domes and fancy blue glass, too. Golden mechanical animals were wandering around, and lots of blue light-like energy. Airships seemed to abound, and tubes containing the blue energy were visible.

Suddenly, George was transported to a rocky isle with a green center. In that green center stood a palace or a castle or a mansion. He couldn’t decide which of those would best describe it. Maybe a mix of all three. It had many brick-red roofs of differing heights, several towers, and the whole thing of bright white walls. Rather fancy, George thought. 

His next dream location was a great white city, arrayed in a series of three rings and the outer wall being shaped like a many-pointed star. Several large green crystals were prominently placed throughout the city, and at the center of the city stood a humongous crystal. George wasn’t even sure if humongous was big enough to describe the size of it. It was simply gigantic. In the background near the horizon, he saw a giant cat with… spikes? A lot of spikes. They stuck out of the back of its knees, the sides of its head, and all along the thing’s back. And they looked really, really, sharp. The creature turned to look at him, rage and primal hunger quite visible in its eyes. It scared George half to death. Or at least enough to wake him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great day y’all!  
> I wonder what those dreams could mean...  
> At least two new MCYTers are appearing next chapter, one of whom was teased last chapter ;)  
> Feedback is heavily appreciated as always!


	4. The New Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George reports what he heard to Niv-Mizzet, and the three of them pay a visit to the Azorius guildmaster.

George woke up in a cold sweat from the dream. Or was it a nightmare? He didn’t feel like figuring that out. It was shortly after the crack of dawn as always. George felt rather icky and sweaty, so he decided to shower, borrow a set of Darryl’s clothes, and make a mental note to return them later. Hopefully.

The noise from the shower awoke Nick, Darryl, and Zak, the three of whom proceeded to get dressed into their day clothes and make breakfast. They had practically finished when George came out of the bathroom, dressed in the clothes he borrowed.

He saw a batch of muffins on the kitchen table, with Nick and Zak each already in the process of eating one, and Darryl patiently waiting for George.

“Good Morning, George.”

“Thanks, Darryl.”

“So, what are your plans today?” Darryl asked George and Nick.

“I’m going to go visit Clay,” Nick answered.

“I have to report to the Firemind,” George responded.

“Have a muffin, George, then hurry. I won’t keep you any longer than I need to.”

“Ok. These look good,” George said as he took a bite out of his muffin. It was pretty good, he admitted. George quickly finished and left through the front door of the Plaza East Home.

George found his way to the bridge connecting Tenth District Plaza to Plaza East. It wasn’t as crowded as it normally was, being early in the day, and George crossed the area without too many problems. He slowly walked down Plaza Avenue, readying himself to speak to the Living Guildpact. The Chamber of the Living Guildpact was in sight, for Plaza Avenue led directly to the door of the Chamber. The Chamber was a somewhat large round building with a green dome, supported by eight buttresses.

George placed a hand on the metal doorknob and turned, the Living Guildpact and Izzet League Parun Niv-Mizzet sitting there, waiting for him. The Living Guildpact was quite magnificent, George admitted. The golden-scaled dragon sat with his back legs in a crouching position, and his arms crossed in front of him, not unlike a cat. His wings stretched to either side of him. The decagon symbolizing the ten guilds magically carved into his chest was quite visible.

“George Burian, you’re early.” The dragon remarked.

“Yes, I am. I suppose that means I can give you my report earlier?”

“Yes. What did you find?” Niv-Mizzet asked in an inquisitive tone that would make an Azorius lawyer proud.

“The rumors are indeed true. The Blade plans to cause a riot and attack New Prahv, Vitu-Ghazi, and potentially the Chamber of the Living Guildpact itself.”

“Potentially?”

“He didn’t directly mention the chamber. He did say ‘destroy and burn the Guildpact’ and ‘Niv-Mizzet can’t stop us.’ Seeing as the Guildpact is enshrined over there, they probably plan to attack this Chamber.”

George saw anger smolder in the eyes of the Firemind.

“Anything else?”

“The Golgari Swarm and Cult of Rakdos are rioting along with the Gruul Clans.”

“I see. You have a new mission: Go warn the Azorius Senate and Selesnya Conclave of the threats upon their guildhalls. Also, tell the Boros Legion and Izzet League, so they may help defend them. You are now dismissed.”

And with that, George exited the round chamber. He was torn. Should he start visiting the guildmaster s immediately? Or should he check up on Clay first? Clay could be useful; he’d know his way around these places. With that thought, George headed home.

George speed-walked back to his home in Precinct Two, careful not to expend too much energy. He opened the door to see Clay and Nick relaxing on the couch.

“Hey, George!” Clay semi-yelled.

“Hello, Clay. I’m glad to see you’re ok.”

“I’m fine, I didn’t actually get stabbed,” he said with a laugh.

“So the Living Guildpact wants me to visit four of the guilds. These are my guesses, but the Selesnya Conclave and the Azorius Senate because of the threat to New Prahv and Vitu-Ghazi. The Boros Legion to defend the guildhalls. The Izzet League, I don’t know, to devise some fire extinguishing system for Vitu-Ghazi, and probably because of the Firemind’s personal biases,” George remarked. “We should probably also visit Orzhova. They’d probably try to loot the place,” he reasoned.

“So yeah, do you want to come? You probably know your way around the guildhalls, knowing what you do as part of the Dimir,” George smiled.

“Why not? I don’t think I’ve actually met some of the guild masters,” Nick said.

“I guess I’ll go too, so I don’t feel lonely,” Clay admitted.

“We should probably start with New Prahv as it’s the closest.”

“Let’s go!” Nick yelled excitedly.

Ironically, despite being right below the triplet skyscrapers, there was no easy way from Whitestone to the Azorius guildhall. The shortest route would be to cross through the southern parts of Precinct Three.

The three of them walked down to the crossroads where George would normally take a left to Augustin Station. Instead, they took a right. Walking past several buildings of varying roof shapes, they came to a bridge. The other side was still quite similar to the rest of district ten, with a couple of notable differences. For one, there was grass. What wasn’t a house or road was a lawn. In addition, the houses had roofs of white instead of red—Selesnya territory. George gazed up in wonder at Vitu-Ghazi in the distance. George had been to Precinct Three several times before, but the sight of the green and brown behemoth never ceased to amaze him.

George felt himself relax as he walked through the Precinct, noticing the occasional squirrel or bird. The three gray towers of New Prahv towered above him. He’d never been a nature person, but he wouldn’t mind living here.

Soon, they were at the entrance to New Prahv. Three large and extremely tall—the tallest building in Ravnica, in fact—towers rose out of the triangular vase. Each of those was shaped like an arrowhead, curved on one side and straight on the other two. It formed the Azorius symbol if you looked at it from the sky. Each of the towers was a dull gray with a blue vertical stripe like a beam of light in the middle of the two straight sides. In the middle of the towers was the section that belonged to the guildmaster.

Nick, Clay, and George walked through the bluish glass doors of the Azorius guildhall and into a lobby. Wooden chairs lined the walls, and rope barriers divided the floor into a maze, maximizing the number of people they could fit. Seven receptionists waited at desks in front of them. Each wore a blue robe with a white badge displaying the three curved triangles of the Azorius Senate. The trio walked up to the one in the center.

“Welcome back, Mr. Burian. What is your business today? May you and your companions please take a name tag?” The receptionist asked kindly.

Most of the receptions were able to recognize him on sight, being the Living Guildpact’s main liaison with the Azorius Senate.

“I am here to meet with the guildmaster on the orders of the Living Guildpact.” George pointed to the badge he was wearing.

“Straight through those doors.” They pointed to the ones behind them.

The three of them walked through the doors that the receptionist pointed to. It led to a large hallway, which many thinner hallways branched off like a two column-graph. They went straight, though, straight to the guildmaster’s complex. In the very center of New Prahv, a spire stuck out, visible from the courtyard that surrounded the guildmaster’s area.

“That’s where we need to go. The guildmaster’s office is at the very top,” George explained.

The central building's lobby held the guildmaster’s Secretary and portraits of all the Azorius guildmasters in history. George only recognized six of them: Azor I, the Sphinx Parun of the Azorius Senate and creator of the Guildpact. In his portrait, he stood on a throne with his blue and purple wings spread wide.  
Augustin IV, guildmaster during the decamillenial, a blind and frail old guy sitting on his floating bench.  
Isperia, the Sphinx with long purple hair. Vraska petrified her, and bits of her statue showed up in some museum or expedition every now and then.  
Dovin Baan, Bolas’s planeswalker minion who replaced Isperia, introduced Thopters to the Senate.  
Lavinia, Deputy to the Living Guildpact and acting-guildmaster-turned-actual-guildmaster.  
And, of course, the current guildmaster, Ant Venym, with his golden necklace with a purple jewel.

The Secretary greeted them.

“Hello! What is your business with the guildmaster?” She asked.

“A warning and message from the Living Guildpact.”

“That’s important. You may visit him immediately.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, they scaled the steps of the central staircase that lead to the office of the Azorius Guildmaster. Several minutes later, they reached the top and saw the guildmaster, sitting at his desk.

He had pale olive skin and black hair, along with a beard and mustache. He wore a blue and white robe and the necklace he always wore on top of it.

“Mr. Venym.”

“Greetings, Mr. Burian, Mr. Spivak, and their friend, I assume?”

George and Nick nodded while Clay flinched at the mention of his last name. No one ever called him that. How did they get his last name? He wondered. Oh, right. He’d been arrested before. It was the incident that caused him to spark, and his name was entered into the Azorius legal database. That wasn’t what interested him, though. What was interesting, though, was the purple jewel in his necklace.

“What does the Living Guildpact want this time?” The guildmaster asked.

George cleared his throat and spoke up. “To warn you of an impending attack on New Prahv during the Victory Day festival. They are planning to attack Vitu-Ghazi and New Prahv and overthrow the government.”

“Thank you for the warning. I’ll send out the arresters to defend New Prahv. I gather you plan to visit Vitu-Ghazi soon?”

“Yes,” George confirmed.

“Who else are you visiting?”

“Boros Legion and Izzet League. And the Orzhov, though unofficially. The Blade didn’t say he was going after Orzhova, but considering there’s going to be a riot, I’d be surprised if an obnoxiously wealthy cathedral isn’t a target.”

“Fair point.”

“Mr. Venym?” Clay asked questioningly. “Where did you get that gem?” He pointed to the purple stone that hung from a white chain around the guildmaster’s neck.

“Childhood memory, from a now-closed shop over in District Eight.”

Satisfied, Clay nodded, and George bowed. “Thank you for your time,” he said.

“Thank you for the warning.”

And with that, they descended back down the stairs and started toward the giant tree in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s this chapter!
> 
> Only one new MCYT, sorry bout that.
> 
> Please give feedback! Love y’all!


	5. The World-Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George, Clay, and Nick visit the Selesnya Conclave and George has some more strange dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for 1000 hits and 5 kudos!

The trio walked out of the gates of New Prahv and across the bridge, moving between pairs of stone sphinxes, glaring at them judgmentally.

Going back the way they came, past the white-roofed houses that made up most of Precinct Three. Through plazas and squares and alleyways, people went around their business, avoiding George, Nick, and Clay.  _ It’s probably Clay _ , George thought. After passing through a gate, the three entered the upper level of Precinct Three and walked into Beast Haven.

Beast Haven was where the Conclave trained animals for labor and then sold them. Wolves chained to the ground barked and whined as if in pain. Cats panicked at the very sight of a person. Bears growled in anger. George saw a member of the Cult of Rakdos inquiring about buying a horse, knives dangling, and chains jingling from their clothes. George wondered if they’d hurt themselves yet. Meanwhile, a Senate judge was looking at buying a bird, while a Syndicate banker waked by with a fanged bat in a cage.

Disgusted by the sight, George began to walk faster, away from the evils that went on there. That type of wasn’t quite illegal, after all. It had been forbidden by Azorius centuries ago, but Azorius influence was rather limited in other guilds’ territory. The Guildpact explicitly said that the Gruul Clans, as the caretakers and guardians of Ravnica’s nature, could not engage in animal slavery or its likes. But since the Gruul devolved into the ragtag barbarian groups they were now; the Selesnya Conclave gradually took over the role of nature’s guardians. And since the Conclave wasn’t the guardians of nature according to the Guildpact, all that was stopping them was morals and how much Trostani and Mat’Selesnya decided to enforce Azorius laws.

The trio took a right and exited Beast Haven. Before them was an open, shady area, and the feature that dominated the entire precinct stood in the center of the area. The second-tallest structure in Ravnica and the biggest Tree on the plane by far, probably one of the biggest in the multiverse. Probably. Vitu-Ghazi, the City-Tree, which doubled as the Selesnya guildhall.

“Hey, Clay, Nick,” George said, suddenly. “Is there a bigger tree than Vitu-Ghazi in the multiverse?”

“Maybe on Zendikar?” Nick responded. “The Temple of Mystery is probably around the same size.”

“Well, the biggest I know of is the World Tree on Kaldheim.” Clay stated. “And that one is certainly bigger than Vitu-Ghazi.”

“How big?” George wondered.

“Big enough that you can’t see the entire thing at all.”

“How did it get so big?” He questioned.

“I don’t know,” Clay responded with a shrug.

Vitu-Ghazi was, simply put, incredible. Semicircular structures made white-light gray wood with a tinge of brown sprouted from the sides of its wide trunk. A staircase of that same polished wood circled around the trunk, and staircases connected the various structures and tunnels built on the inside and outside of the City-Tree. At the top of the trunk, in the radial web of its boughs, was the main structure, at the center of which was the Chamber of the Trostani, the voice of the Worldsoul.

George saw a vaguely familiar brown-haired boy in a green shirt chasing some sort of bug. Due to the faint buzzing sounds coming from nearby, George deduced that it was probably a bee. A somewhat bored-looking catfolk stood guard at the bottom of the grand staircase that was the entrance to the Selesnya guildhall.

“Hello?” George asked the catfolk guard awkwardly.

“Hello. You can call me Ant,” The guards said. “What are you doing here?”

“We are here on the orders of the Living Guildpact to speak with the guildmaster.”

“Go right on in.” Ant stepped to the side.

“Also,” Nick added, “Who’s that child over there? He looks familiar…”

“That’s Tubbo! He’s training to become a guildmage.”

“Wait…” George paused. “He’s one of those two children from the rally! He was with another kid in a red and white shirt! The ones who thought we were eavesdropping!”

“That kid was probably his best friend, Tommy. Oddly hot-headed for a member of Boros Legion.” Ant remarked.

“Thank you, Ant.” All three of them said simultaneously.

And with that, George, Nick, and Clay ascended the spiral staircase that wrapped around Vitu-Ghazi like a snake. After walking up the stairs for a good ten minutes, they happened on the lowermost of the wooden clam-like protrusions. Peeking through the window, all George saw was a bunch of beds and bunks.  _ This is where the Quietmen sleep _ , he guessed. Another ten-minute walk up the stairs was a meeting room for the high-ranking priests of the Selesnya nature cult. 

Around twenty minutes later, they got to the top of the trunk, the main area of the guildhall. It was practically a miniature city, with houses, a market, an owlery, and most importantly, a central chamber carved into the great tree. That chamber was their destination.

The trio walked into the chamber, where three dryads stood. Tree limbs stuck out from the walls, all converging at the center, where the three dryads were: Trostani, the Voice of Mat’Selesnya. The leftmost one wore a goldenwood headdress, marking her as Ses, the dryad of Order. The rightmost one wore a flower crown, meaning she was Oba, the dryad of Life. In the middle, wearing her wooden hood, was none other than Cim, the dryad of Harmony.

“With what do I owe the attention of a servant of the Living Guildpact, a Dimir assassin, and a warrior?” Cim asked.

“We are here to warn you of an impending attack on Vitu-Ghazi and New Prahv during the Victory Day festival at the request of the Living Guildpact.”

The dryads let out an involuntary shudder at the mention of Victory Day.  _ I guess the memories of the War really are that bad, _ George thought. During the fight against Bolas’s dreadhorde, animist planeswalker Nissa Revane awakened Vitu-Ghazi, and it smashed several externals. It had taken the efforts of several planeswalkers and numerous guildmages to get Vitu-Ghazi back into place. Mat’Selesnya had done their best to heal the damage, but some marks were still present.

“The child warned us of this too yesterday,” Ses pointedly told Oba. “We need to take action to save as many lives as possible and the world tree.”

“Not New Prahv, the Azorius Senate can defend themselves. But we should summon the quietmen to defend Vitu-Ghazi.” Oba responded.

“Shush! Let the emissary of the Firemind speak!” Shouted Cim.

“We are also visiting the Izzet League, Boros Legion, and probably the Orzhov Syndicate. Expect the Izzet League to visit in one or two days.” George finished.

“We don’t need the Izzet League’s help,” Oba said with a tone of disgust.

“Unless they are sending some fire extinguishing machines, we have no way of easily putting out a fire on Vitu-Ghazi,” Ses answered.

“Even then, we don’t need the League of Wojek,” Oba added.

Suddenly, Cim’s voice turned very deep. “Prepare the quietmen, and tell the Izzet to make a fire extinguishing machine or system. Vitu-Ghazi will not be defenseless, and the Gruul will come with fire. Cisarzim always loved Arson. But we will not defend New Prahv,” the voice declared.

In her normal voice, Cim told the trio, “Mat’Selesnya has spoken. Tell the Izzet we request means of extinguishing fires. Farewell.”

The three dryads went silent. Taking the cue, George, Nick, and Clay left the chamber and descended back down the several hundred stairs. It was easier than walking up them, for sure. 

“I’m exhausted after going up and down those stairs,” Nick complained.

“Yeah, me too,” George agreed.

The three of them made their way back to their abode in Whitestone, hurrying through Beast Haven. Tired and muscles aching from the physical exertion of the last few days, George went right to bed and drifted off into more dreams of strange locations.

The first dream had him looking at three peninsulas, sticking out from where he was like the tips of a trident. On the middle peninsula stood a city of gray stone buildings. Interestingly, the highest points were on the right side of the city, and it sloped downward toward the left. Spires like those of Orzhova could be seen. Two aqueduct-like bridges connected to the other peninsula. 

George was transported to what he could best describe as a shrine. In front of him, on a platform raised by two steps, was a lit brazier glowing brightly. Behind the brazier was a symmetrical set of six columns connected on top. Four statues stood to the side, four busts of a horned creature ( _ maybe a Minotaur _ , George thought) on top. The night sky was light up by various colors, and it wasn’t the Ravnican night sky, though it did look familiar. Racking brain to figure out why it looked familiar and not succeeding, George woke up out of frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More dreams of strange places... I wonder what it means.
> 
> Have a great day, love y'all!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it :) this chapter isn’t very exciting.
> 
> Please give me feedback!


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